Last Step
by LoveTheBoyWithTheBread
Summary: Hadrian never regretted a step he took, even though it ultimately lead to his demise. Boy from District 4. Written for the Dawn prompt on the Starvation forum.


**A/N-This was written for the Dawn prompt in the Starvation forum.**

**Disclaimer-The Hunger Games are not my property.**

**Hadrian is a character whom I have been interested in for some time now. Please enjoy this oneshot into his life.  
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The sky was still dark above the bright glow of Capitol lights, but after seventeen years of practice watching the sky over District 4, Hadrian knew that it wouldn't stay that way for long. The dawn was approaching, and with it, a new stage in Hadrian's life.

Many things were beginning today. Not only the 74th Hunger Games, but also a carefully laid out path to success. His first step may have been onto the stage at the reaping, but it was a small step in comparison to what he was now preparing himself to do.

He stood on the roof of the building in which the tributes were housed. Salacia had told him about this place, hearing it from Glimmer, who overheard her stylist talking to another stylist about it. He was skeptical at first; why would they allow tributes up here, especially the night before the Games started? But in the end, he rode the elevator up as high as it could go, then climbed the final few stairs to where he was now standing. He had slept up here last night, craving the fresh air. District 4 had so much fresh air, and even if the Capitol air didn't smell like the sea, it was an improvement to his stuffy room all the way down on the fourth floor.

He had awoken just before the dawn, and was now staring out into the sky, almost as if he could look hard enough, and be able to see his future. He told himself that he could win the Games, but if he was being fair, the Games were less about skill, and more about circumstance. After years of watching friends and loved ones go out to sea,-perfectly capable of handling the unforgiving tide-and never come back, he knew that nothing was ever guaranteed. His victory was not an exception.

Joining the traditional Career alliance was another step towards his goal. They would get him farther than most tributes could get on their own, provided he survive the bloodbath and the start of the Games. He had many strengths, and not many weaknesses, and he felt that he had a fair chance at winning.

When the sun broke out on the skyline, he inhaled deeply, savoring the taste of dawn on his tongue. A new beginning, a new shot, a new life. No matter what happened today, or in the days that followed, he would never regret his choice of volunteering for the Games, and he would never regret any step he took afterward, even if it was the wrong one.

He returned to his room just minutes before his escort started banging on the door for him to get up. Not that he had once needed a wake-up call throughout the duration of their stay at the Capitol, but the escort was clueless in matters such as the waking schedule of the District 4 tributes. And to be fair, Salacia slept in as late as she could, so it wasn't unreasonable for the escort to think that both of them did.

At the breakfast table, Hadrian smiled at Salacia over his hash browns and eggs. She returned the grin, and they continued eating. The two of them were true allies, committed to preserving the other's life, against any form of harm to the other tribute, unless in an act of self-preservation. They had both sworn to not lay a hand on the other unless it came down to them as the final two, then their alliance would break out of necessity, with no hard feelings attached. Hadrian knew in his heart that he was certain of their alliance, and he trusted Salacia to be certain as well. The rest, he left to chance.

Hadrian was fitted in the standard issue tribute uniform for this particular Games, and boarded a hovercraft with his stylist, Topeca. He wasn't fond of the woman, but he had nothing against her either, so they sat in comfortable silence as the sun grew brighter in the sky, and the lights of the Capitol receded into dim splotches, burned forever into his memory.

He drank water, he ate fish, he thought of home, and he thought of the life he had ahead of him, be it long or short. No regrets, he told himself, and he promised to stick to it as fiercely as he stuck to his alliance with Salacia. Before he knew it, he was ready to be raised into the arena.

He had no district token. He was firm in his resolve that the only remembrance he needed was in his heart and his mind, as his entire being stretched towards his home by the sea. It wasn't a longing feeling, it was a comforting feeling. One that would last him throughout his time in the Games.

Topeca hugged him, then he was sucked away without saying a single word.

He paid no attention to anything but the golden Cornucopia, gleaming in the sunlight. Eyes on the prize, he told himself, a catchphrase of his father's. His dad usually used it when referring to fishing trips, but it could be used in many other situations as well. This one was a perfect example.

Sixty seconds was quickly up, and he dashed for the horn in the center of the circle of tributes. He grabbed a spear, because he was the most familiar with it. He did not seek out those to kill, but let them come to him. One child died by the point of his spear before his resolve faltered, and he found his every sense seeking out a second kill.

It landed on a boy by the name of Peeta Mellark, one whom had been distracted by something, and had reached the cornucopia late. The only weapons he had were his muscles, and the fierce gleam of calculation that the sunbeams reflected in his eyes. Peeta did not approach Hadrian, but let the Career do all the work.

A few feints to the left, then the right, then a quick dash at him with his spear. But the blonde boy jumped out of the way much too quickly, and Hadrian lurched past him so fast and hard that he landed on his face, the spear yanked from his grasp. His reflexes flipped him over, but he was momentarily stunned to the point where he couldn't stand up.

Peeta was hovering over him with Hadrian's very own trusted weapon.

So much of the Games has to do with circumstance over skill. Hadrian knew that, but it didn't stop him from becoming a victim of fate. But as the light was fading from his eyes, and he knew he would never again see the dawn begin over the sea in District 4, he didn't regret a single step he had made. Not even his last.


End file.
